Yes, I have a large balloon whisk in my hand. A weapon only terrifying if you are a cake mix.
I fling it at the middle one. It bounces off his forehead as I race back to the scullery and slam the door behind me, rolling a heavy milk churn in front of it.
There’s no other way out. I am trapped in here, and all I’m doing is putting off the inevitable. I have to hope Gloriana doesn’t hear the noise as, powerful though she is, I don’t think she’d be a match for three Redcaps, whatever she thinks of herself.
The door rattles.
“Come out, come out, pretty pretty,” someone sings from outside.
I stay silent. Perhaps they’ll think there was an alternative exit.
Perhaps they’ll go away.
I back up in the dark, forgetting about the cream. My elbow hits the bottle and while I grab for it, I miss, and the next thing I hear is the smash of the glass and feel the cool splash of the liquid on my feet.
Something slams into the door. Something dreadfully familiar. I know I’m going to die. I grope around in the dark for the lantern which doesn’t seem to be where I left it. There’s enough heavy things in the scullery which means I can at the very least keep them at bay for a few more seconds.
But the lantern eludes me, and outside there are more unpleasant noises. When I finally locate the thing and lift the lid, light floods out as all the noises cease.
Have they given up? I doubt it.
I’m seized with fear for Gloriana. What if she has come downstairs? Avoiding the broken glass and spilt cream, I pull the churns back and listen at the door.
Still nothing. I quickly decide if the way is clear, I’ll run over to Brian, the green grocer. He’s built like a brick outhouse and is bound to be prepared to help me take on three Redcaps to save Gloriana.
I open the door slowly. It’s dark in the bakery. The lamps having gone out. I lift up the glow lantern to shed some light.
The first thing I see is a boot, attached to a leg, which isn’t attached to anything else. It’s then I see the blood, dark puddles of blood, spreading out over the stone flags. My breath doesn’t want to leave my body. Of all the things I’ve seen in the Yeavering, this has to be the worst.
I feel cool steel sharp against the skin of my neck. A blade.
“Come with me if you want to live,” a voice growls a weirdly familiar phrase in my ear. “There are more on their way.”
I want to speak, but with the blade at my throat, I don’t dare. Instead I slowly raise my hands to demonstrate my compliance.
The blade is removed. Instead my hands are grabbed and tied behind me, swiftly and with cool fingers I think might be tipped with claws. I’m pulled against a hard body, and lips are pressed to my ear.
“Don’t make me blindfold you. Now move.”
I’m shoved forward, past more body parts, and I rather wish Ihadbeen blindfolded as I attempt not to step in the mess which covers the floor of the bakery.
We make our way out of the kitchen, into the shop where the door hangs off its hinges. Outside there are some lights in the windows above the store fronts. As we exit, more come on and some windows open.
“Keep moving,” the voice says in my ear. “Or there will be more bloodshed.”
I’m being rushed down the street, into the shadows, away from everyone.
“Who are you?” I gasp.
“I’m your worst nightmare.”
Before he can stop me, I turn to face my captor.
Blood red eyes gaze into mine.
“I’m the assassin sent to kill you.”
And he pulls a bag over my head.
